Year One
by Electric Smile
Summary: Short bits on Cammy's life after escaping Shadaloo. Deals mainly with her struggle to form an identity out of nothing, some pieces of her life in Shadaloo, and a friendship she forms with Vega before inevitably having her past revealed to her, threatening to undo everything she built for herself. Will include Delta Red, and eventually some other Dolls, Rose, and Chun-Li.
1. Chapter 1

This is a bit unlike anything I've written before in that it's largely plotless and more about the relationships between characters. So if you are looking for something with an exciting plot, a lot of action, and a big adventure, I'll say this probably isn't a good candidate. But if you like a sort of slice of life thing and like Cammy, Vega, or Delta Red, you may enjoy this?

I changed Cammy's age from 16 to 19. MI6's age requirement is 21, but I could find a two year gap more believable than a five year one. Also I am not English, never even been to the UK, so if I get some things wrong please feel free to correct me about it!

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><p>The subject is unknown. She studies us with violet eyes. Peculiar features, but beautiful. "You've made the right decision, bringing her to me," she says finally.<p>

He speaks next. "Don't make me doubt it." A warning, threat. But she is much, much stronger than he is. Her readings mirror a pattern found in the general, indicative of something analogous to psycho power.

I try to speak but can only manage gibberish. My movements are sporadic and random. There is constant pain. The general warned me of the price of my freedom but I would not listen. Couldn't listen. I wanted this more than anything, from the first time I learned how to 'want'.

"He did something to her," he says. I know that he will leave me here.

I muster up every ounce of strength I have left and force it out through my mouth in a shriek, "_Traitor!"_

He ignores me. "Fix her."

"I will." Unidentified female takes my hands. It stings. Hands are shaking, uncontrollable, my body was mine for such a brief amount of time, and that has passed. So it goes, one of the books would say. I am always, always the general's slave. She tries to reassure me with her eyes but I do not know who she is and can not yet trust her. She looks back to him and he is sad and this angers me. That he could be sad to abandon me when it is his choice to do so.

"Liar!" I say to that illogical sadness. She holds me back first. Slip wrists from hands. Stumble towards him, movements aren't certain, always trembling. Shaking fingers ball to fists. Knuckles make contact with sternum, but the blow is not strong enough for any damage to occur. I feel tears, I hate these tears, the general's parting gift. The cost of helping others is pain. "You-ended-I-I-I-" I stop and try to fix my voice but I have so little control over myself.

"Stay here." He says this like an order but I no longer take orders. Free people do not take orders. "She will fix everything." He looks at her and it is because he isn't sure. He doesn't know if she will or not.

"You!" I cry because it was supposed to be his job!

"I can't!" I feel emptier than I ever have. Everything is gone. My life is meaningless. Purposeless. I have no home. I have turned against the only leader I have ever known. I have lost my squadron. And my only friend is abandoning me. He pulls my hands off of him and I don't have the strength to fight back. The woman takes me back into her arms and I don't want them. "She will be safe?"

The woman nods. "I will do what I can. But hear me when I say this: do not seek her out. Do not involve yourself in her life again. It's hers now. Let her live it." Why is she telling him that? I don't want him to leave me! I shake my head because I can't make the words now, it's too difficult.

He nods, slow, hesitant. Won't look at us. I want for him to say no, to take me back. But he leaves without saying good bye, without saying anything and I can only stare at the door hoping he'll come back through and fix this like he promised he would. He abandoned me instead and I have lost everything-

_Brrrt brrrt brrrt!_

I need a new alarm clock. I need a new just-about-everything. That's all right though. One step at a time. I yawn after I smack the noisy little bastard quiet again, and I stretch. I feel a little low. Something to do with that dream. Can't even remember what it was about but I can remember how it feels. How do you figure that works? Brains are strange, especially mine.

My name is Cammy White. At least, that's the name I've been given by the government. A sort of combination of things. White is just a fairly common last name, guess it could've just as well been Smith or Jones or something like that. Cammy might be my real name, because when I was taken to the embassy in Italy, I only had on my clothes-a loose olive t-shirt and a pair of jeans-and these dog tags. On the dog tags it said 'CAM' and my birthday, which is January 6th. So I mean my name might be Cameron, or Camilla, or Camille. But I think Cammy could be short for all three so I'll go by that for now.

I get out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. Brush out my hair and braid it before splashing a bit of water on my face. Time to start the day. The first day of work. It's a bit of a hard thing, to stop that squeamish sort of feeling in my stomach. I'm nervous about work. Just a bit.

What do I mean about being left at an embassy in Italy? Well, truth be told, I can't be sure. I was found there by the workers. No notes on me, no belongings, not even in my pockets. Just the clothes and dog tags. I don't know what I was doing in Italy. Someone suggested I was kidnapped, and they said maybe I should look into missing persons reports to see if someone back home is looking for me. I've done that, you know, but none of the pictures were of me.

I change into nicer clothes. Nicest clothes I could find at the nearest thrift shop, anyway. My shirt is a bit big, and the pants are maybe a bit high at the ankles, but it's probably better to have something professional on than the jeans and t-shirt. When I have some money and live in a proper flat I can go to real stores and buy clothes that fit me. But that's not important at the moment.

Here's the most difficult thing about all of this. I don't remember a damned thing about my life. Not a tic. My name is part guesswork, part random assignment because, well, everyone's got to have a last name. I know at least my birthday and that I'm nineteen. Technically I might not even be a proper UK citizen, but given how I was left at the UK embassy above all others, and that I speak with an English accent-someone told me I sound like a Londoner-I guess that's as good a guess as any. Nobody in the government has really got any records on me, though. I try not to let that bother me, but it really is a bit overwhelming sometimes to feel like I don't really exist. That there might not be anybody out there missing me, or if there is, I don't know who they are or how to find them.

My aren't those heavy thoughts for my first day of work.

I make sure I look put together and all. No rips or tears in my clothes. My shoes are tied. My hair's neat enough. With all that done, all that's left is to grab a cup of tea from the place up the corner. I leave and you know, a lot of the time I forget to lock my door so I'm trying to be better about that. Not that anyone would find anything worth stealing in there, unless they're a bit hungry but if that was the case I suppose they should take it anyway.

It's nice out. It's going to be fall soon, is what I hear a lot on radios or televisions and stuff. I think that means that the temperature is falling, so they call it fall. The streets are always busy but it doesn't bother me. More to see that way. I wonder about other people a lot, where they're going, what they're up to, what's it like to have a head full of memories and stuff. But I try not to dwell on it _too _much. Maybe I'll get my memories back some day, or at the very least, I can start making new ones, so there's that to look forward to, right?

The tea place is really a tea _and _coffee place to be exact, and they also have all these nice little foods but they're a little expensive for me to buy. The first day I went there I got a black tea and a black coffee because I didn't know which I liked. Let me tell you this. Coffee is the foulest sort of drink on the planet. It's the bitterest thing I've ever tasted. Maybe I've tried it wrong or something, but I'll leave coffee to everybody else. I quite literally tried-I wanted to give the rest of my cup to someone, but no one would take it so I had to toss it out. I figure a tea every day in the morning's not so bad a cost, and I read it's got loads of healthy things in it like flavoraids and anti-toxicants. And caffeine makes you perk up a bit. I get in line and put my order in and look for the clock. Still got plenty of time to get to work.

Oh, right, work. Well, when I was found at the embassy in Italy, it happened to be the same day as an apparent terrorist threat. Those don't happen often in Italy, so far as I can tell, so the timing is a bit odd to me. I tried reassuring myself it's just a coincidence. Nobody was trying to kill me or something by leaving me in a building that was going to be bombed. It's not worth worrying over too much because there simply is a lot I don't know.

"Cammy!"

Oh! That means my drink's done so I go and grab it.

At any rate, I was sitting in a room in the embassy, quite confused and trying to convince an official I had no idea how I got there, or who I even was. That's when all this commotion starts, people are shouting out about an attack, there's gunfire, people screaming and running everywhere. Really I feel like I should've been terrified like everybody else, but I wasn't. I got up to leave with some other people, just because it's senseless to sit stock still in the middle of something like that. We're confronted by some folks with guns and I just...beat them up. Like it was nothing. Disarmed them like I'd been doing it my whole life, got them down on the ground, and had a second or two to wonder why in God's name I knew how to do any of that. It just came to me, natural as breathing or something.

A man named Keith Wolfman happened to witness this. It was his job to take care of the intruders, so that's why he was there. After the situation was all resolved he asked to speak with me. I was shocked to find him offering me a job. I mean, who am I? Some kid, barely nineteen, don't even know my own name and he wants to recruit me into MI6. I stammer through an explanation about my odd situation, how I just have too much on my plate at the moment. He says oh that's understandable, but you'll need work one way or the other, so once you've got as much of yourself sorted out as you like, call me. At first I was just too overwhelmed by everything else. Getting back to the UK. Shaking off the shock of going toe to toe with armed terrorists like it was just a walk in the park. Having no idea who I was, where I came from. All manner of things to deal with really. After a few days of beans and toast at every meal with nothing in my tiny dingy flat but a bed, I figured, this Wolfman fellow was right. Whether I know who I am or not, one thing everybody needs is money. So I went to his interview, even if it felt a bit silly since the answer to just about every question was 'I don't know, sir.' I'm not even old enough to be working with them-two years shy of the requirement. But he said not to worry about that.

He hired me because he said he saw how I responded in a crisis situation, and that he'd never seen someone move as fast as me. Why though? Ugh, no, not going to keep going back over this question. Just take things as they are. It took a bit of convincing from him to his superiors, but he won them over somehow. I've got a lot of training to go through yet, and regulations to learn, coworkers to meet. But it's something, and when you have nothing, it means everything.

Anyway, that's where I'm coming from, and that's where I'm heading.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky is grey here. Hills everywhere. Driving from Spain to Italy. I don't remember how I got to Europe. It is clearly different from Thailand. In the foliage. The animals. The buildings. Even the road signs. There are so many differences all over the world it makes my head feel full. How can I ever know them all? Is that even what I want? Will I ever have the opportunity? Or will the general win first?

I am sick and he says he will fix it. He swears it. However, the truth must be faced: he is not knowledgeable on psycho power. He can not undo this.

The rain comes. The windshield is fogging up and this presents a minor threat to our safety but I do not express that. I am too tired.

He asks me how I feel. I look at him. Too weak to try to express myself with words. They are more difficult to use every day and his response is always the same: 'I will fix it.' I look to the windshield, covered in fog. I mark it three times. Dash. Dash. Curved line. Two eyes, and upturned lips. A smile-I will be fine. It is perhaps the first lie I have ever told because I realise that when I die it will hurt him. I struggle to understand why that should motivate me to lie. I am made to hurt others. It is my purpose.

It was my purpose.

He glances at what I've drawn but doesn't say anything else. I put my head back on the window and the fog begins to clear from the glass. I don't know where we're going and I feel too weak to ask. Could I even make my voice do what I want it to now?

But he says he will fix it.

Fix it? Oh supper! I was supposed to fix supper but I fell asleep! Oh well. It's only me that needs feeding so it's not that much of a problem. I'll just heat up a can of soup.

Wait, was I going somewhere? Can't think of where I'd have to go this time of night. Was I sick or something? Going to the doctor, maybe? No, I feel fine really. So maybe I dreamed it while napping. That's probably it.

I put on the television. There's something worth watching, I'm sure. I like to see documentaries because they know everything on there. I learned about primates in Africa yesterday. That's like monkeys and apes and stuff. Did you know they've taught some of them sign language? And that not so long ago people just thought they were thoughtless little robots, basically? Well we know that isn't true now, and that's good, but some of them still get experimented on and I feel bad for them.

Well, sometimes there aren't documentaries on. But movies...those are just as good I think. I flick around a few channels just to compare and settle on the best looking thing. Terrorists have taken people hostage and it's up to John McClane to get them free. It's sort of exciting. I mean when it's just pretend, which movies are. And this movie is just so exciting that I almost burned my soup because I forgot about it.

Oh I've done other stuff with my day obviously besides nap and eat. I've almost finished my first week of work. It's mostly training and stuff but it's alright. People there say I learn quick so I feel a bit good about myself. Now I know a lot of the basics of what's expected of me here. Mostly we collect intelligence in places which seem to be brewing up any sort of threats to the UK or even some other parts of the world. Sometimes we work with other agencies like the CIA. That's like an American version of what I do I think. Or Interpol which, if you look at the word, it's like they squishes together a summary of what it is to make its name-'international police'. Clever, right?

I learned also that most all of what I do has to be kept very secret, that I can't tell anyone. It could end up that someone makes friends with me to get me to talk about the secret stuff I might end up knowing, and that could threaten national security. That part's a little intimidating because how will I know if a friend I've made isn't really a friend? I like to think it'd be obvious, but maybe not. I felt a bit better because the lady explaining all this to me says she hasn't really heard of it happening too often, but it's just something to be aware of. Besides, I haven't really got any proper friends just yet. But I'm sure that will change.

I got all kinds of IDs and other clearance and paperwork out of the way, which actually gave a lot of folks there a bit of a laugh because so much of it was blank. It didn't make me laugh, though. Someone complained that it didn't seem 'safe' to allow someone in my 'condition' to become a member of MI6. He made me feel a bit bad about myself, because he said I could be a 'plant'. Somebody else argued it was a stupid idea because what organization would send a plant with such an obvious attention grabbing issue as being unable to completely remember anything about themselves. I didn't have a whole lot to say about it, just saying if I was a plant I don't remember being told that, and that I'd be pretty useless then. I also said it wasn't too fun not being able to remember anything and that it made me pretty annoyed to talk about it with them. They said that's fine and the fellow arguing in my favour said he hopes everything turns out alright for me and I get my memory back. It was nice of him to say.

After all of this stuff with rules and forms and orientations and even such simple bits as when I can go for lunch, I got to shadow a few people to learn the way the place works. I followed an older lady around. Her name was Alice. She was okay, mostly all business which I suppose I should be too so I was. She only got exasperated with me a few times for not understanding a couple of things she thought I should know at my age.

I was told also I'd be taught computer skills. Not just how to use one to do shopping or something. But more real skills. I don't even own a computer of my own yet but she said I can practice basic exercises at the library. There's nothing specific to the job about the practice, so it's okay if I do it in a public place. And this is what I meant by her getting exasperated because I asked her what a library was, exactly, and she sighed at me. It's a place with loads of books you can borrow for a bit for free and computers you can use for a bit, if you're wondering.

But anyway, as you can tell, I've been kept pretty busy by work. I don't mind it. It's nice to have something fill your day, especially for me because otherwise I just go in circles wondering about who I am, how I got to Italy, why I know how to fight so well, where I'm really from, if I have any friends somewhere missing me, where my parents are or if they're even still around. Or if they even want me still.

No, no, no sense in thinking like that. I can't change what's already happened, and just have to work on what's ahead of me.

Anyway, the last thing about this job is that I got to meet the people I'll be working with most closely. I already met Colonel Wolfman. He's the whole reason I have this job. Apparently he's been with MI6 for a long time so he's quite influential and trusted. Guess that's why they've allowed someone like me to work with them. He's quite nice. Even though he's quite big I don't feel intimidated by him. He's the leader of the team and he acts like it.

Beyond that, there's Matthew McCoy. He's also big, taller even than the Colonel, but he's very friendly. Everyone in the group has an expertise, and his is longer range guns. He's an expert sniper apparently. Next is Lita Luwanda, who intimidated me most at first. She seemed very serious, angry almost. But then we spoke and she seemed perfectly nice, so I guess that shows me I shouldn't be quick to guess what people are like based on how they look. She specialises in melee weapons. And finally there's George Ginzu. I think he was most talkative of everyone, even though I didn't have time to speak much with anyone. He's very good with computers and he said if I pay attention he might be able to make me 'as good as him one day'. I'll have to see about that.

They're all quite easy to talk to there. Lita and Ginzu call me 'Goldilocks' on account of my hair. Least that's what they said. I asked them who Goldilocks was and they both seemed shocked I didn't know and I'm getting the feeling that I'm going to get tired of things like that. People being irritated or surprised at me for not knowing stuff. McCoy made a joke that I should wear a badge or something declaring my 'ignorance' and that made me angry. I almost said some rather mean things to him before the Colonel stepped in and told him, "Don't let me hear you say again. You wouldn't call someone with cancer lazy, why would you call someone with a memory condition ignorant?" McCoy said sorry and I guess I felt a bit better when he said he didn't mean it as an insult, that he just didn't know how else to say that I don't know a lot of things.

The whole thing made me angry for a bit before I realised I'm actually sad about it. I want to know things, it's just that when I ask, people tend to react poorly in some way. I never get a straight answer. I tried reading books but it's really difficult to pay attention and I find it much easier to listen to people talk. It's why I like documentaries because I can learn by people talking at me. And the telly doesn't call me ignorant for wanting to know something.

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><p>The stuff about cammy's job was found by the briefest of glances at the sis website. i know these two chapters are less interesting stuff but i want to establish where she is and maybe show how she's feeling about her situation before i get into things.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Eyes open. Head aches. Unfamiliar room. Sparse quarters. Concentrate, last memory: Operating psycho drive. Freeing dolls from enslavement. Overload. Explosion. Blackness. Betrayal, I have committed betrayal. I have gone against the general. What will happen to me now?

"Are you alright?"

Sit up. My insides feel hollow and light. Hands shake against my will. Pain moves through my head. He stands at the threshold, civilian clothes, no mask, no weapon. And I do not know-threat, or not? Do I attack, or do I wait? "You tried to kill me." Test for hostility. If present, then engage. Preemptive strike while he is unarmed. Though he does not need a weapon to kill, it will give him less of an advantage.

"Those were his orders and I couldn't refuse them."

"You are lying." He has frequently ignored orders, especially regarding me. "You always refused him as you saw fit."

"Then those orders were my punishment, weren't they?"

Stare at him still in the doorway. Slowly comprehending. The lies he told the general, his disobedience, caught up to him. "You failed. I am alive. Why?"

"Do you really think I could kill you?"

He kills all others he is assigned to. But all others are not me. "No," I say finally. "But why?"

"You're too beautiful."

"You let me win?"

He nods. Could I have defeated him were it not for that? Will he ever try to kill me again? "I can't hurt you." He says it almost like he's disappointed in himself. Like he is weak for that. His mouth is open as if he will say more, but no words ever come.

"Where are we?" I ask him.

"Barcelona. I didn't know where else to go." Far from the general. Far from home. But Shadaloo is no longer home. Nowhere is home. But I am free. Does freedom require that? Have I done something wrong? What happens now?

"The others," I say and I mean the Dolls. But I do not wish to call them that anymore. "Are they safe?"

"You said you freed them." He's right, I remember suddenly. Why does my memory feel like it's in pieces? "He said..." He steps toward me. Tense, always stay alert. "He said you'd die if he died."

"I do not feel dead." He touches my face, just beneath my nose. I see blood on his fingers. I feel pain, not a physical kind. A desperation, deep in my stomach. I am frightened. I have for some time understood this word but never been able to feel it myself. Did I really want this? I close his hand into a fist and push it away, I do not want to see the blood, my blood. "What will happen?" All of my fear is in my voice, in my face. Before everything happened with the target in India, I wouldn't have been able to do that. And now it's unstoppable, my expression of fear.

"I'll fix it." Can he? Does he have that sort of power? He is nothing like the general, and Shadaloo is destroyed. Who can really help me?

Waking up is a bit hard this morning. I feel sad about something but I don't know what. I have a lot of dreams I don't remember and maybe they're effecting my mood even though I forget them pretty quickly. I've got to drag myself out of bed anyway. I have work after all. Which is a good thing. People seem to complain about work, or maybe it's just movies and shows and that. But I like having a job, makes me feel like I mean something, like I matter, I have a place.

So I push through the sad feeling I woke up with and pretty soon it goes away on its own as I go through my morning routine. Shower, get dressed, brush hair and teeth, snag a breakfast bar, and out the door I go. I'm a bit off schedule because I sat in bed a little longer than I should have. But it's alright, I'll-

Oh. Oh dear. I have to stop when I see it because no one else does. Huddled beside a dumpster down the alley is a little white cat with brown spots. He's gnawing on a piece of plastic that looks like maybe a sandwich was in it or something and my heart is going to break. Nobody should have to eat garbage. He must be hungry. Well he can't buy his own food, so if I don't do it, he's going to starve! No, no I can't stand that thought, so I rush off to the nearest store that might have some food in it. It's busy 'cos everyone's on their way to work I suppose but it's important. I don't want to let the poor cat die from being hungry.

I get a tin of tuna even though I should probably be saving every bit of money I've got. I tell myself it's an important emergency because it is. It's better I spend this on a poor little cat who could die from starvation at any time. I get my change and trot off back to the alley. The cat's still there, licking on the plastic, so desperate for any bit of food that might have smeared onto it. Oh it's so sad! How can everyone ignore the poor little kitty with nothing to eat?

Well, I'm not ignoring it. I pop off the lid to the tuna, tip-toe towards the cat. He stiffens up, back arched, he stares at me. I set the tuna down, slide it towards him with my toe, and take a step back. I want to make sure he knows it's there, so I watch him. For a moment he doesn't do anything. I'm pleading with him in my head like I can make him move to the food with my thoughts. And maybe that works because then he inches towards the tin and sniffs it. I get so excited I make a little noise and cover my hand with my mouth so I don't scare him away.

And he eats it! Oh now at least I know he's had a decent meal today! It makes me so happy to see him scarfing it down and I watch the whole time while he eats. It feels good to help somebody who needs something. I guess I haven't done it before, so it's new to me. I should do it more often I think. Once he's finished and is just licking the inside I get a bit bold and inch towards him. I hold out my hand and think maybe, just maybe he'll let me-

But then he saunters off, slips under the dumpster, and watches me from there. I push my lips together tightly. Well, maybe making friends with an animal is a bit different than making one with a person. I can't just tell the cat hello because he won't understand. It's alright though. If I see him here tomorrow, maybe I'll try again. Wasn't I going somewhere anyway?

Oh God, I have to get to work!

I start running when I realise that. How long did I get sidetracked by the cat? I'd better hurry or I'm going to be in trouble! I rush into the cafe I always go to and the line's a bit longer than normal and I try hard not to groan loudly. It's not anybody's fault but my own, anyway. I keep glancing at the clock on the wall and it inches closer and closer to nine. I get to put my order in and then I've got to wait for it to be called and it's so nerve-wracking. I'm trying to be patient but it's the hardest thing in the world, being patient. Like holding your breath when you really need to breathe. I'm bouncing up and down on my toes-heels up, heels down, heels up, heels down. Don't know why, that just seems like it'll make things go faster.

"Cammy!"

Finally! I say thanks of course, not their fault I'm late, got to get a bit of milk in this quick, rush over to the other counter-

"Oh!" It's a chain reaction of crap. First, a woman in a big hat with purple hair-really, purple-bumps into my shoulder, and that bumps me into this other fellow, and my flimsy cup of tea collapses in my hand and spills on my shoulder. It's a bit hot and I don't try to hide that when I hiss really loud. The woman doesn't even look back, like, no big deal that I just made a complete stranger spill hot tea all over herself. I'm annoyed about that but I'm too late to chase after her and demand some apology and just call, "Well, thanks a load!" at her back as she leaves out the door.

The lady behind the counter saw all that and calls out, "What was it, sweetie, we'll make you another." And I tell her and thank God for that because if I had to wait in line again, I'd never make it to work! I look back down at my ruined cup and sigh in a really exaggerated way but I don't care, I'm quite annoyed by all this, not a good way to start the day. I say sorry to the guy I bumped in to because well, at least _someone _should say sorry about all this, even if it isn't my fault. He still looks bewildered, stares at me all shocked, and I groan because I can see there's a dark spot on his shirt where my tea probably spilled on him too. I say sorry again and he keeps staring at me and that's annoying me. I'm not some space alien, so what's he gawking at?

He says something finally, quickly like he just remembered he knew how to talk and I have a hard time understanding. It sounds like 'noablo-eengless'. Don't I feel like an idiot throwing apologies at him and getting frustrated that he won't respond. Not everybody speaks the same language as me. But then he sighs loudly and shakes his head slowly, says in perfectly fine English, "Yes I do."

It takes me a second to parse all that, but when I do, it just annoys me! "Oh you ass! You were just going to ignore me when I'm trying to be nice and apologise to you about this tea incident!"

"Maybe I forgot, only for a moment."

Now I'm staring at him. Is that possible? I shouldn't be one to judge people for forgetting things, but would someone really forget a whole language, just for a second? I don't really know because I only know one language and well, to be honest, I've forgotten words for a second too. Like once at work I needed a bathroom break but the word 'bathroom' completely slipped my mind so I was left going 'ah, um, the ahhhh.'

"I'm joking."

"Oh it gets worse and worse with you!" I cry and push on his shoulder because this little trickster, he's making a fool out of me. "I'm just trying to be nice even though this day has got off on a bad start!"

"How is that?" When he says a word with an 'h' in it, it sounds a bit funny, almost like he's choking on something a bit, but I don't have time to ask him why. I have to stay focused on getting him to stop playing tricks on me.

I scrub at the tea on my shirt with a paper towel but it's not helping much. "Well, first I woke up a little later than I should have. Then I had to stop on the way here, because I saw a cat and it seemed hungry so I popped into the nearest store I could find for a tin of tuna fish and that took up a good bit of time. Then I get here and the line is longer than usual so there's that." I crumple up the napkins and toss them in the bin beside him. "And now I've got to change clothes 'cos some lady in a floppy hat bumped into me, and she didn't even take a second to say sorry! But then _I _try to make up for it by saying sorry to you, and you tease me instead!"

"A cat?"

I groan, why's he all the way back there? "Oh, you're a great listener, aren't you goldilocks!" I only know that word because it's what Ginzu called me and it's somebody with blond hair who ate some bear soup or whatever, I can't remember exactly.

The woman behind the counter catches my attention. My tea's ready. So glad, going to be so terribly careful this time, on guard for all manner of shoulder bumpers and floppy hat havers. That lady better never see me again because I'll have a few words for her! I thank the lady behind the counter and grab my cup and go back for some milk. Goldilocks is still there trying to scrub the tea out of his shirt but I don't have much time for a conversation so I just say, "Good luck with that, mate."

"You too, Cammy."

And I don't know why but that makes me clam up real tight. "How'd you know my name?" I ask and maybe I said it sort of serious and now he knows I'm sort of wary of him for that.

But he raises his eyebrows and pantomimes holding a cup with one hand and points at his imaginary cup with the other. I look down and there it is, my name written in black strokes for all to see. I sigh heavily and roll my eyes. It was stupid of me to get nervous because a person can read! "Well aren't you clever," I mutter and even though he's not looking at me he smiles a little but it makes me want to hit him. I've got my tea, got my damp shirt, and three minutes to make a ten minute walk. What a day.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, my first paycheck will be coming up so I've been looking for places to live. A proper flat of my own, and it'll have proper furniture in it that's mine. That'll feel nice. And I can save up for all kinds of stuff because well, the pay is pretty decent with these people. I'm already thinking about going off tomorrow to get some new clothes. I've only got a few pairs of pants and a few shirts. Not even one for every day of the week. But one step at a time. When you start off with nothing, you have to take it that way or else you could really get overwhelmed quite fast.

Anyway I'm at the cafe looking through the papers for flats for rent. But one problem is I don't know what my price range is. And then, I don't know where some of these places are so I can't really tell if it's a good trade off. I don't want to have a terribly long walk to work, or have to pay more for bus or train fare...

I'll be honest. Things like this are boring, comparing prices and measuring distances. So I just look around the place for a bit and am practically begging for a distraction of some kind. It's just past the busiest part of the morning for this place, so it isn't too full. I recognize a good few of the people, especially the workers. But there's some customers I've seen before, like that lady two tables up in the blue sweater. I take a second to wonder what she does for a job. Or maybe she doesn't have one at all. She's on her laptop. I haven't got one of those yet, but they sound like a good investment. You can learn a lot on a computer, and I certainly have some learning to do.

There's an old fellow at the register right now who's in here a lot. He always seems to be in good spirits. I hope I'm that way when I'm that old, still wanting to talk to people and smile. A lot of older people seem to be more sad or reserved. But I guess it makes sense because maybe a lot of people they know are dead now. I've got a long time before I'm old though so I don't worry about it too much.

There's a boy who I think must be a student because he's always got a textbook and notebook on the table when I see him and he looks a bit younger than me. I wonder if I ever went to school. I've seen them in movies and shows and they seem like stressful places since people seem to be at odds a lot, or getting put in detention on a Saturday.

This is no good is it? I'm not getting anything done, so I figure I should head back home to avoid further distractions with this people watching. I feel sort of off if I don't get work done, like I'm going to get in trouble for it. Even if it's sort of self-imposed work to begin with. I don't have that problem at my actual job. In fact the Colonel says he's never seen someone so focused as me. Lita jokes that I've got to relax some or I'm going to raise the standards for everybody else. I like the folks I work with so far. Lita and Ginzu bicker a lot but in a friendly way. They both like video games and asked if I play any and I said I wasn't sure. So they insisted I should come over to one of their houses sometime to play. McCoy likes football and the Colonel will talk about it with him sometimes but I don't know much about that either. They said I should come to a pub sometime and watch a match.

My temporary home is a bit of a walk from the cafe, since I picked the place on account of it being on the way to my work. But that might change when I move. Is it worth keeping that in mind? I'm sure there are dozens of cafes in the city. I like that one though because most of the workers know my name. It feels good, sort of like I'm making friends, even if we don't say much to each other.

I make it home and spread out my papers again. It's quite a bit of information to go through. The flat is quiet except for the hum of the fridge. I circle a place that looks like it might be in a good spot. The way the fridge keeps humming is kind of relaxing. I slump down on the table and keep reading all these boring boring details. And the fridge keeps on humming and the letters keep on blurring together and if I close my eyes just for a minute maybe it won't be the end of the world.

Panic. That is this feeling racing through me, making my hands shake and my legs feel weak and my chest feel empty even as my heart beats at an elevated rate. Tremors run through the ground, making secure footing difficult. Explosions that are all too near. Shadaloo may be destroyed today, but I can not allow the others to die. I can not allow them to end their lives as his slaves. I said that I was a prisoner, and today I have taken my first step as a free person. This is my choice, to save them, and no one will stop me.

Throw myself into the strange machine, the source of his power, the power he controls us with. He will answer for his crimes. I focus, the machine hums as if it were alive itself. I have never used it, but I must try, or I am condemning them to a life no one should have to live. And I can feel them, suddenly. Each of them, even him. He is a terrifying black vortex, nothing but destruction and evil are possible through him. I see them linked to him, each a little thread that must be severed if I am to break them from his control.

There is pain. My vision blurs, my head feels as though it's been cracked open. Each line to him snaps, one by one, and I can no longer feel them but this means they are free. Or are they dead? I can not know, and now fear-I know this now-eats at me from inside. What if I have killed them?

A close explosion shakes me so roughly that I'm thrown into the side of the machine. I try to focus as I end the connection, but my breaths are coming with more and more difficulty. The world is blurry and darkening quick. "Free-" I manage to say but it takes every ounce of strength to say it. Another explosion and I hit the floor as part of the roof caves in just inches from me. There's such an intense heat, but it's brief. I can't get up again. The machine, it wasn't meant for me to use, and I will pay for it. I try to breathe again but the air is so hot and awful. Everything blurs further as my eyes roll back into my head. I blink hard, trying to clear my vision, to stay awake. I can't focus anymore. I don't know what's happening to me. The General may kill me, but at least I've freed them. At least I've done that-

I shoot up coughing like mad and my throat feels so dry and sore I'd have thought I'd just crossed a desert. I cough so hard it makes me gag and then I keep coughing some more, fumbling in the cupboard for a glass to fill with water. I gasp a bit and why's it feel so hard to breathe? Got to calm down. Does it smell like smoke in here? I get a few breaths finally, drink some water, calm down. No, there's no smoke, oven's not on, nothing's burning. I finish off my glass and set it down, looking around. Everything's as it should be, I think. I must've dozed off while looking in the papers.

Oh. The papers. My real estate search. I look down at the listings. Only one place circled. But I've got a week. That's a good long time.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why didn't you kill him?" the general demands. Flurry of unfamiliar emotions that I had just barely begun to grasp takes over. Overwhelmed that I may never understand all the nuances and complexities it takes to be a person. Afraid that he will kill me for my failure. Afraid that he knows my programming is in error. Confused still about what I am and what I mean.

How to answer? "I..." But no more words come. There are feelings and they die on my tongue, never able to escape me.

He steps towards me. I am afraid. I am confused. I am angry. I am hurt. I am- "You've become self-aware," the general says for me. Is it the truth? How can I know? "Your last target's unforeseen interference with your mind has, unfortunately, resulted in your uselessness." It's as though I've been run through with knives. I feel empty and hollow. I am not useless, I am me. I am a person. Doesn't this mean something? Don't I matter? "This is evident in the fact that you left not only him, but a second target alive."

Second target. The Yogi Dhalsim was the first and Commander Vega the second. I was supposed to kill him when he attacked me, but I couldn't. I couldn't kill either of them. I don't know what to say. I have been betrayed by everyone. Thrown out into a sphere of consciousness I don't understand. Condemned for it when I never asked to have it in the first place. Is it better to be aware if the cost is your life? I curl my fists tightly and wait for the general's sentencing.

"Kill her. She is of no use to us now," he says. Juni and Juli salute to confirm their acceptance of his orders and then he is gone. I face my opponents and though I do not wish to harm them-because I understand now that it is not their choice to be here-I know I must defeat them in order to save them.

Oh God but my dreams are getting weirder every day. I sit up and rub my eyes and try to keep it all in my head, all the weird feelings, the odd thoughts, but like all dreams, they just seem to rush off faster the longer I'm awake. I should do some research about dreams. Maybe learn how to keep them in your head long enough to figure out if they mean something. Something about dolls and soldiers. Eh, well, it's gone now, so no use dwelling on it all day.

And why be bothered with that today anyway? It's my first full day in my new flat! I picked it all on my own and moved the few things I owned here, did everything on my own so I can call it one hundred percent mine! Well, technically I'm renting it, but still, it's basically mine. I already met some neighbors who saw me moving in, a nice old lady who has a poofy little dog, and a fellow in his thirties and his wife. They were all welcoming which is good because I wondered, all these new people, will they be friendly? I find most people are, but then sometimes they aren't, so I wonder.

It feels good to accomplish something like this, living in my own place without assistance. I know some people very much need assistance, and obviously they shouldn't feel bad about that. But I just felt like I don't _need _assistance. I can work and make my own money. And that's why I'm here today, in my own personal flat, going around in all the rooms as I get ready for the day because it's so odd that it's all mine. I feel like I've never owned anything of my own though that must not be true. I'm on the third level, which isn't too high up. I have my bedroom with a window in it. And a living room where I can have things like a television or whatever else I want. I've got a kitchen where I can cook proper meals once I learn how, and I figured that should be my goal of the day. To find out how to cook real meals. Even if I really would rather be looking for a television, I know that food is probably more important to have first. And I'm sick of beans out of a tin.

So once I've gotten ready and grabbed my tea at the cafe-which is much closer to this flat than my old one-I set out in search of books to teach me how to cook. I wasn't sure if there was a closer library than my old one. I thought maybe I'd find a new one around here and I _did _see a place full of books when I was walking around moving my things yesterday. So I went there determined to find a cook book.

This library felt a little different cos it was sort of small. Not too small but definitely not the size of the other one. Everything was better organized, and all the books looked very new. At my old library all the books had ragged corners and foggy looking covers and yellowing pages. I never really read many books there and mainly went for the use of the computer. But here, they didn't even have any computers. Maybe this part of town is more fortunate and everyone has their own computers at home so the library doesn't need them.

I picked through the cook books for quite a long time. You have to be sure with food. And well, it's a tough decision. The books with pictures were hardest to choose between because everything looked so delicious. I even found a book with pictures of wedding cakes and it's mad what people can do with a baked good. I finally decided on two because I couldn't choose between them and I brought them up to check out. I've never checked out a book before, just mostly flipped through them when I realised how long it took for some web pages to load.

I put them both on the counter and the old fellow there is much friendlier than the library people. He says hi how are you and I say I'm well thanks and you. He says he's doing well and he scans my books and I hand him my library card. A few people are in line behind me so I made sure to be prepared. He looks at it then looks at me and asks, "You know where you are?"

"Yes..." I start to say but then the way I say it makes it plain I don't. He states a total price and that's when I realise he's expecting me to pay for the books. "I'm sorry. I thought libraries were free."

"This isn't a library, it's a book store."

I stare at him because that sounds like a joke or something. Who'd buy books when you can just rent them at the library? "Are you kidding?" I ask him to be sure. He doesn't seem too happy.

"They're brand new books and they certaintly aren't free. Have you got the money or not?" he asks and my didn't that cheerful demeanor of his fly off in a flash?

I shake my head and he's about to pull them off the counter when someone sets down a pair of two normal size books on top of the cook books. "Add these and I'll pay for it."

I turn to glance at the fellow. He looks kind of familiar but I don't know why. I think suddenly of wheat fields for a minute when my sluggish brain finally catches up to what's going on around me. "Now wait just a minute, what're you doing?" I demand of the stranger when he hands some money to the clerk. He just shrugs. We get our books back and I follow him away from the counter so the next people in line who've apparently never heard of a library can buy their books. "Why'd you do that?" I ask him because they weren't exactly cheap, almost ten pounds a piece. That's expensive to me, at least, especially when they could be gotten for free.

He stops again just before leaving through the door. "You wanted them, you should have them." He says it like it's obvious and-oh there it is! I know where I know him, it's in the weird way he says his 'h's like he's got something in his throat!

"Hey wait you!" I cry out as I follow him out onto the sidewalk. He lets me catch up with him. "You're the fellow from the cafe, I spilled tea on you!" I blurt all at once partly because of my excitement of having identified him and partly because I feel like I have to be quick or he'll be gone.

"You did," he says but it sounds just like a fact, not like he's bothered about it.

"Well...why didn't you just say it was you if you knew it was me?" I ask him because he didn't say anything before.

"I couldn't face knowing if you'd forgotten me or not."

I twist my lips at him and narrow my eyes at him. I hold up the pair of cookbooks and shake them a bit. "These cost a lot you know, and I can't pay you back. Leastwise not anytime soon." It's sort of annoying that he paid for them because it's trapped me in a debt I didn't ask for.

"You don't have to."

"Well I'm not a charity case! I have my own flat and everything," I say to him in an almost angry way because I don't like people feeling sorry for me. I'm capable of taking care of myself.

"I see," he says but that doesn't really clarify anything.

I just can't figure out his angle here and it bothers me. "Oi what's with you then? It's twice I bumped into you now. Are you following me?"

He stares at me like I told an offensive joke. "If I remember right, _I _was there first, and this is the same case in the cafe. So perhaps _you _are following _me_."

"Am not!" I say quickly because it's the truth.

He points off down the direction he was heading before I stopped him. "I'm living just a few blocks from here. It's the nearest book store."

"Oh. I live back that way, up around the corner and fourth place on the-."

"You shouldn't tell complete strangers where you live," he says before I can finish.

"Well you're only something like...1/50 of a stranger," I try, an attempt at being as clever as him.

He finally smiles a bit, so he isn't a robot after all. "How do you come to that figure?"

"If I never met you before you'd be 100% of a stranger. I figure I've met you twice now, so that's 2 out of 100, and you reduce the fraction...you get 1/50." I shrug. Seems sensible enough to me. "Oh...or would it be 98/100? That'd make you 98% of a stranger which I guess sounds better..."

"You're odd."

"Hey!"

"Unique, then," he corrects himself with a more flattering adjective. He raises his eyebrows as he asks, "Better?"

"Slightly." I'm reminded of the whole reason I'm having this stupid conversation as I shift the weight of the books from one hip to the other. "But...being serious. Why did you pay for these?"

"You wanted them."

"Yeah but it's not like I needed them."

"Same difference."

"But the expense-"

"I don't care. Money is the least important thing there is." I raise my eyebrows at him in disbelief. He must be rich then because that's the only sort of person who could say something so stupid. "I'd like it better if I spent it on a pair of books that ended up giving you a good dinner than holding on to it." He shakes his head. "Don't worry over it."

I look at the books and feel a little selfish. It's hard not to feel bad when someone does something for you out of the blue and you can't do anything to return the favour. "Well thanks, alright?"

He shrugs again. "Cook something and tell me how it was." He says something in another language and it sounds like this: astala prohima gwapa.

I'd say what if I never see you again in this giant city but it seems like we'll bounce into each other sometime if he lives nearby and goes to the same cafe as I do. So instead I say, "Fair enough." Cos it is. More than fair really. He heads off down the road again and I head back to my flat, ready to cook something delicious. And maybe to find out how to not mistake a book store for a library ever again.


End file.
